Is there an official burn address on Solana?

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datatime: 2022-09-26 05:05:02 Author:yPJlTjlE

Strands of weed, as long and brown as a woman's hair, rolled across the reef. His skiff was jostled by swells, and he put a hand on each gunwale to steady himself. He realized he was getting a little too close to the bommies, and he'd had a skiff peeled open before, so he turned his tiller to get away. Across the reef the seaweed swirled, a dance of the morning tides, and the phosphorescence gleamed like liquid emeralds.

The water hissed along the thing's spine as he neared it. Damn thing got a nest of snakes in it, he thought. He looked toward the towering bow, ran his gaze past the rise of the conning tower. The boat was battered pretty bad, but no algae growths marked the iron. That was plenty peculiar. As he watched, a swell rolled across the stern leaving a trail of dull green phosphorescence and brown seaweed. It was an underwater boat, his wife had told him. Something bad and unnatural about it, she'd said. How could it stay under and then come back up again? He shook his head. It was a mystery, one that was beyond him. Coconut barked sharply again, stirring him from his thoughts.

The old man's terrier mutt, perched on top of the fishing skiff's wet-well, had been watching the bone-white squid as they darted and dived, their tentacles tangling together. "You put your nose in there, Coconut," said the fisherman, "and one 'o them boys bite it off sure as I tells you"

He felt weary suddenly, and after a while he turned off the lights and climbed the stairs in darkness.

"Are they? What do they say?"

And then, as if from a distance, came a low grinding noise.

"Underwater," he said. "Other than that I don't know."

Superstitions. They was all the time eatin' at a woman, tryin' to get at a man too. Not that he didn't listen hard to the winds and the tides, or believe in the power of Rev. Boniface. But some things-old things his father and grandfather had sworn by a long time ago-he refused to put his faith in.

Silence. The sea, the breezes whining around broken railings.

"Underwater," he said. "Other than that I don't know."

"Funny things, things I don't understand so good. It's made some of them afraid, and there's a lot of whisperin' goin' on."

There was a sharp bark, then a subdued growling.

Silence. The sea, the breezes whining around broken railings.

"Hey You leave them be"

"No need. I be all right. You ever want to see me again I'll be down by the tavern somewhere, but I figure to be leaving here soon." As he approached her she reached out and touched his hand. It was as cold and hard as stone. She smiled again, showing teeth sharpened by chewing sugar cane, and then she was gone out the door and along High Street. She headed for the dark village below, keeping her eyes away from the thing lying across the reef. For a long while Moore stood in the doorway and watched her walk away, knowing she'd be okay but wishing all the while he'd gone with her just so that he could be with someone. And then he couldn't see her anymore and he closed the door.

Silence. The sea, the breezes whining around broken railings.

She paused, then smiled awkwardly, but the smile was quickly gone. "I've never seen nothin' like it before. But... I don't know. Mebbe. A closed-up thing like that, as huge as it is, like something from a bad night. I get chills thinking about it." She watched him, seeing his gaze go through her as if she were invisible. She picked up her purse. "I should go."

On Kiss Bottom, surf surged in around the hulk, hammering at iron, foaming in and then back, again and again. A dog howled in the village, and another began barking, brokenly, in answer.

"Let me get dressed and I'll walk you down," he told her as he got to his feet, but she shook her head.

The mutt scampered away from the wet-well and to the stern, where his master sat with one hand on the tiller of a small trolling motor. "I ought to throw you to the merrimaids," the old man said, feigning disgust.

"Underwater," he said. "Other than that I don't know."

The old man's flesh crawled; beside him the dog jumped, yipped.

There was a sharp bark, then a subdued growling.

The water hissed along the thing's spine as he neared it. Damn thing got a nest of snakes in it, he thought. He looked toward the towering bow, ran his gaze past the rise of the conning tower. The boat was battered pretty bad, but no algae growths marked the iron. That was plenty peculiar. As he watched, a swell rolled across the stern leaving a trail of dull green phosphorescence and brown seaweed. It was an underwater boat, his wife had told him. Something bad and unnatural about it, she'd said. How could it stay under and then come back up again? He shook his head. It was a mystery, one that was beyond him. Coconut barked sharply again, stirring him from his thoughts.

"Are you afraid of it?" he asked.

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